Generally, I like to be positive in spite of obvious limitations in my life as a disabled person. I am proud of the fact that most of the time, my world is as normal as anyone else’s; although it takes a lot of adaptation. All I care about is the end result of considerable effort to prepare my home and car properly for a wheelchair. It goes where I go so it is a priority in my life.
Given the better ease of getting around and going through my routine as a result of enhanced equipment and helpful innovations, there are times when something upsets the balance. One of my pet peeves, and it always makes for a bad day, is when someone parks illegally in the only handicapped space available at my destination. I hate it when these people complain about too many designated spots; they are totally clueless. They just park and run off.
Recently, a friend and I wanted to dine at my favorite restaurant. I know there is handicapped parking right in front. However, there is only one space. If it is occupied by a car with a placard, so be it. If not, I am furious. It happens from time to time. I have to go elsewhere and hope for the best. Let today’s blog be an unvocalized protest about this perennial problem for the disabled who drive. I hope to raise awareness so that those ignorant of the problem will become savvier and more accepting of our needs. Please do not violate the law. Yes, you will get a ticket. Be kind. You can’t imagine how hard it is for a friend to push me two blocks just to eat. Or how sore my arms get if I wheel myself very far.
Yes, that’s is exactly what happened—a bit of both. The ordeal of coping with an unauthorized vehicle in my handicapped space exhausted me. And don’t say I probably could use the exercise. I could only think about a hot shower as soon as I got home. The thought of the spraying warmth cooled my temper ironically. However, the temper soon flared when I got home and found that the hot water heater was on the fritz. The plumber from Water Heater Watch promised to come the next morning, but that meant no hot shower that night. Agh! I was so spent at that point that I rushed to my bed.
Of course, this could happen to anyone and is not unique to the disabled. But I could not dash off to the gym as an alternative given the degree of effort in would take in my fatigued physical state. This is the only kind of self-pity I allow myself.